Tutenkhamen
by Maruma-chan
Summary: “You think you know where to find all the answers, don’t you, Pharaoh mine? don’t. You won’t find any of the answers you seek in this place. You’ll only find it,” he taps the side of his head, “in here.” The Pharaoh says nothing, only wait


I'm back again. I seem to be disappearing and reappearing rather frequently. Anyways, I discovered the band 'Nightwish' a few days ago, and if their songs don't scream 'fanfic' I don't know what does. They are incredible. Just a note on the accuracy (or lack thereof) of the info in this fic, especially when it comes to the ancient Egyptian language. If you find something incorrect, go ahead and tell me, and I will change it, but if you flame me, I will send the Egyptian gods after you. I just got back my fucking exam marks, and I do NOT need that kind of thing right now. For the rest of you, enjoy! And an R&R would be greatly appreciated! Oh, and also, this doesn't come into play right away, but it will later. Yami is Tutenkhamen. I don't care if he isn't supposed to be, he is for this fic. Enjoy!

TutankhamenThe Pharaoh sighs in frustration, running a hand through his strangely coloured hair. He is missing something, he knows he is. Setting off at a run again, he finds himself at the entrance to the city square. He turns his back to the center of the city, leaning against one of the many pillars which holds up the shelters intended for people to have gotten away from Egypt's harsh, unpredictable weather. Once the oldest and most beautiful place in the city, the square is now the most decrepit.  
  
'Like me,' he thinks. 'Ironic, that. This place has had its day, like the Pharaoh. It has seen many wars...and won most of them. That was many years ago, though. I suppose ancient blood must be laid to rest eventually. Gods, but I missed this place, though. Memphis. The place of my birth and rule.'  
  
The Pharaoh doesn't remember very much about his rule or his past. Every now and then, the gods grant him glimpses of what was...or at least, what they would have him believe was. Never anything substantial. Never enough to put together a coherent picture.  
  
He sighs again. 'Sometimes I wonder if the Gods hate me.'  
  
Suddenly, a noise shakes him out of his reverie. It comes from behind him, in the middle of the square.  
  
He tenses, ready for a fight, if need be. Ancient places such as this have played host to thieves and killers for thousands of years, and it is not a good idea for someone wearing a humongous piece of pure gold around his neck to be out here in the middle of the night, as the Pharaoh is.  
  
He slowly turns around. To his utter astonishment, it is neither a thief nor a killer at the center of the ancient square. It is a tomb robber.  
  
The white-haired spirit has his back to the Pharaoh, and doesn't seem to realize he is there. He is looking at something he holds in his hand. The gold flashes in the moonlight, and the Pharaoh sees that it is a locket.  
  
'What in Ra's name...why would the tomb robber have a locket?'  
  
"Come out from behind there," the tomb robber suddenly calls from his perch on the edge of the crumbling fountain, startling the Pharaoh. He emerges slowly, not quite sure what to expect. He waits for several seconds, wondering if the tomb robber is going to make the first move. When he doesn't, the Pharaoh says tentatively, "I didn't expect to find you here."  
  
"Faax" is the only reply.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Faax," the demon says again. There is none of the usual maliciousness in his voice, indeed, nothing at all to indicate what he might mean.  
  
"Cut the bullshit, Bakura," the Pharaoh snaps tiredly. "Speak fucking Japanese."  
  
"Faax," repeats the tomb robber for the third time, nearly sending the Pharaoh into a fit of murderous rage. However, the king's fury is staid by the fact that this time the foreign word is accompanied with an explanation.  
  
"Faax. Part of the language of the Middle Kingdom, as they call it now. Roughly translates to 'leave'." The last word bears more weight than the others, more anger. "You want a translation? Fuck off." The Pharaoh is startled by the sudden change in the tomb robber, but at least it is a change he is used to.  
  
"No, I don't think I will," he responds testily. "For two reasons. One, how in the Gods' name do you remember that? And two, what in the Gods' name are you fucking doing here? I came here to get answers to my past. I cannot do it with you trailing me."  
  
The tomb robber sneers. He still has his back to the Pharaoh, so the sneer is hidden, but it is evident in his voice. "What makes you think I didn't come here to kill you, oh benevolent ruler? You know I would be well within my rights to do so," he adds, standing up and turning to face the Pharaoh, so that they are only a foot apart. The Sennen Ring begins to glow at his chest. His voice carries something the Pharaoh has never heard from him before. Not even the tomb keeper or his dark ever held this amount of danger and cold fury within their voices.  
  
"So you keep saying," says the Pharaoh, keeping his eye on the Ring. "Yet you have not done so yet. Normally you would have blasted me to the Shadow Realm and back at my first words to you. Why is it not so today?"  
  
Suddenly, the Ring begins to shine brightly, and an unearthly powerful wind springs up around the demon and the Pharaoh. The latter is knocked to his feet.  
  
"Never," commands the spirit in a deadly whisper, "question my actions."  
  
"I cannot help but do so," answers the Pharaoh, staying on the ground so that he will not be knocked off his feet again. He knows there are far worse things the ancient killer could do to him, but he has a feeling he is safe. For now.  
  
"Will you permit me to get up without killing me, tomb robber? I have things I must do here, and evidently, so do you. Therefore, I suggest we call it a night and get back to trying to tear out each others' throats in the morning."  
  
The dark spirit only laughs coldly. "You think you know where to find all the answers, don't you, Pharaoh mine?" he questions. The ancient ruler doesn't understand, and it obviously shows on his face. Or perhaps the tomb robber has dived into his thoughts again. He has a nasty habit of doing that lately.  
  
The tomb robber speaks again. This time, there is no laughter, no amusement, warm or otherwise. "You don't. You won't find any of the answers you seek in this place." He gestures to the crumbling structures of stone around him.  
  
"You'll only find it," he taps the side of his head, "in here."  
  
The Pharaoh says nothing, only waits for the demon to make his next move. That is his biggest mistake. Without warning, the Ring flashes brightly again, and he is hurled with the spirit into the Shadow Realm. 


End file.
